Tears and Rain
by kates1304
Summary: Connie and Ric mainly
1. Chapter 1

Connie slammed the door to her office and sat down at the desk, trying to calm her fury. How dare Michael undermine her like that, and in front of all the board members as well? How on earth was she ever supposed to command the respect of her staff and the trust when he was constantly belittling her and making her appear inept? 'Are you coming home?' Michael's head popped around the door and he wore a broad smile, clearly unaware that he'd done anything wrong and this aggravated her further. 'Later' she managed to rasp, her chest constricting with anger at the mere sight of his face 'I have things to do here' 'Whatever' he shrugged lightly 'I'll see you later' he added as he slammed the door and made his way down the corridor with a small spring in his step that she recognised as his victory dance. Smug git, she muttered to herself as she pulled out a stack of paperwork that should have been dealt with yesterday and started to scrawl her name on every visible dotted line, taking out her aggression on an unsuspecting biro which eventually, unable to stand the strain, snapped in two. 'Bugger' she muttered, throwing it down in temper and searching in the desk drawer for another 'screw it' she added, furiously throwing the paperwork back into her in-tray and grabbing her coat. She needed a drink before she could even contemplate attempting to get her head around the complexities of bed-allocation strategies and the bottle of red wine that nestled in the cupboard wasn't going to cut it. She needed something with an alcohol content not far short of meths. After the day she'd had, she thought that breaking into the store cupboard and drinking a bottle of surgical spirit would probably be acceptable behaviour.

'Double gin' she barked at the bartender 'and no tonic, no ice and no slice' she added before he asked her 'quick as you like' 'Here you are' he slammed the glass down in front of her, furious at her rudeness although he vaguely recognised her as a big shot from the hospital across the road and decided she was probably the person referred to by the nurses as Cruella. She certainly had a real attitude problem. 'Thanks' she gave him a small smile as the alcohol entered her body and started to numb the tension that wracked every muscle and joint in her body 'keep the change' 'Thanks' the bartender gave her a suspicious look and took the five pound note from her as she hopped down from the barstool, still clutching her drink as though it was a lifeline and crossed the bar to the battered leather sofas in the corner of the room where she sat down, neatly crossing her legs as she lit a cigarette and took a long drag. 'It's no smoking' he went over and cautiously pointed out to her, preparing for her to react badly to this intervention 'sorry' 'Fine' she rolled her eyes and stubbed out the cigarette on the saucer he offered 'it was only a displacement activity anyway' 'Right' he drawled slowly as he backed away and put the still glowing cigarette into the bin, watching as she lifted her glass to her lips and drained it in one movement before slamming it back down and staring at it, as if in surprise that it was already empty.

Two hours later, Connie was more than a little worse for wear. She was well on her way to being completely pissed and worse; she found that she didn't particularly care. Of course Michael would be unimpressed when she rolled home in the small hours hardly able to stand and even less impressed when she had to spend tomorrow morning within ten metres of a toilet but that seemed like a small price to pay for a night of completely forgetting everything. Slowly, unsteadily, she got to her feet, preparing to order another vodka and tonic before calling it a night, drunkenly debating with herself the wisdom of ordering a double before deciding that she would have the double and deal with the consequences later.

As she descended upon the bar, she heard a voice that made her heart sink. Although she knew that it was highly likely she'd see some of her staff at the bar across the road from the hospital, she was now so drunk, she really didn't have the energy, inclination or mental capacity to deal with them. Especially not Chrissie Williams. Stifling a sigh, she scanned the bar for an exit that didn't involve walking past Chrissie and whatever man would shortly have her tongue investigating his throat but saw that there was none. She was going to have to face the music, say a quick hello and then call it a night. Slowly, painstakingly, she made her way towards the exit, a vague sense of nausea rising in her chest from too much alcohol on an empty stomach and she was faced with the horrible prospect of throwing up in front of her ward sister. Wishing she had never heard of alcohol, she struggled to carry on walking, the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other and moving forwards almost more than her inebriated brain could take.

'Connie?' Chrissie spotted her and looked at her in puzzlement as her boss rocked dangerously, holding onto the bar in an attempt to stay upright 'are you okay?' 'Fine' she croaked; glad that at least Chrissie's date had his back turned. She didn't know why but the idea of being seen in this state by Chrissie's latest victim almost upset her more than being seen by Chrissie. After all, she'd seen Chrissie in comparable states on more than one occasion but the man would just think of her as Chrissie's alcoholic boss and the very prospect made her want to cry. 'Are you sure?' Chrissie stood up and gently put her hand on Connie's elbow to steady her 'You seem a little…' 'I'm fine' Connie barked, brushing Chrissie's hand away from her arm, although she knew she lacked her usual force 'really. Have a good night' 'You too' Chrissie frowned slightly as Connie continued her slow shuffle towards the door, glancing only momentarily at Chrissie and her date. At that moment, Connie felt her blood run cold and the nausea she had been fighting to control overtake her. Without looking back, she bolted for the door, running into the park opposite the bar before dropping to her knees and throwing up, unable to believe who was dating Chrissie Williams.


	2. Chapter 2

'Connie' she heard Chrissie calling out and crawled into a bush, wanting to hide away from Chrissie, the world, him, forever. She couldn't face him, especially not in this state. She might have sobered right up but she was clammy, shivering and smelt very slightly of sick. This wasn't how it was meant to be – he'd left her in a state not unlike this one and she would not have him finding her like this all these years later. He had to see that she'd changed from the frightened eighteen year old he'd left behind but crouched behind the hedge, out of Chrissie's sight, terrified of being caught, she felt just as small, just as scared and just as stupid as she had all those years before. Even now he had the power to make her want to run and hide from the world just at the sight of him and it terrified her.

'Connie' Chrissie repeated a final time, glancing around the car park and finding no trace of her boss. Eventually, convinced that Connie must have performed a miracle and found a cab, despite looking like she was going to throw up at any given moment, she turned and went back into the bar and back to her date, not giving Connie another thought, assuming that her boss was well on her way to being at home, in bed, sleeping her way to an enormous hangover.

Finally, the coast was clear and Connie stood up, brushing mud and dirt from her trousers and running a hand through her hair, still feeling slightly wobbly although she was utterly convinced she couldn't possibly have anything left inside her to throw up. The combined effect of the alcohol and the shock of seeing him had seen to that. Slowly, finding it easier to walk now she wasn't constantly on the lookout for the best place to dive and throw up, she made her way to the hospital, deciding to phone Michael so he didn't worry, although she doubted he would anyway, and spend the night in her office. She didn't think she could face a ride home with one of Holby's many opinionated cabbies, always assuming she could find a taxi in her current state. Slowly she flipped out her mobile and hit the speed-dial, listening to the monotonous ringing and eventually the ping as her own voice cut in on the answer phone, telling her that they weren't in and to leave a message so she did, struggling not to sound like she was drunk or in the advanced stages of shock, telling him she would be staying in her office and not to worry before she slammed the phone shut and made her way slowly back to the hospital, feeling the cool night breeze wash over her. This calmed her slightly but the effect was ruined by a hysterical burst of laughter that could only be Chrissie and sounded far closer than Connie was comfortable with. But where he was concerned, Mars would be too close for comfort.

'Connie' she heard Chrissie call out and knew that she'd been spotted so she increased her pace, hoping to outrun them although in her current state, she knew it would be impossible 'hang on' Chrissie called and started to follow her, catching her up with ease 'it's my boss' she added to him and Connie watched him frown, as if trying to place her

'Is there a problem Chrissie?' Connie asked tiredly, thankful that he didn't seem to have a clue who she was 'Or are you just trying to waste my time?'

'I was…' Chrissie struggled for the right word, fearing that expressing concern for Connie would be professional suicide 'I just wanted to see that you were okay'

'Well I'm clearly fine' Connie barked, giving him a sidelong glance, pleased to see that he still looked slightly bemused

'Suit yourself' Chrissie shrugged as Connie breathed a heavy sigh bourn of relief and a heavy weight of misery that had descended upon her without warning

'I always do Sister Williams' Connie remarked dully, as she stormed into the hospital, pleased on this occasion to have maintained the upper hand 'I always do'

'Who was that?' Phil turned to Chrissie, a bemused expression on his face as he struggled to place her

'My boss, I told you' Chrissie replied as they walked through the car park in companionable silence

'Connie?' he confirmed, as she reached for his hand, entwining it with his as they strolled along 'does she have a surname?'

'Beauchamp' Chrissie almost spat it as though it was a swear word 'one half of the most vile couple on the planet. They're totally gorgeous and completely poisonous. I honestly don't know why I was remotely concerned about her'

'You like her then?' he remarked sarcastically as they arrived at his car and pressed the key fob, unlocking the car

'I tolerate her' Chrissie shrugged 'if I didn't I'd be fired'

'Fair enough' he nodded slowly 'so what do you know about Connie, apart from the fact she is a complete bitch?'

'Why?' Chrissie asked suspiciously 'She's married you know'

'So you said' he looked at her with a small smile on his face 'she's just, intriguing' he finished lamely, not wanting to share his deep suspicion that he had met Connie Beauchamp before until he pinpointed where and whether she would be baying for his blood.

'Well apart from being one of the three most highly recommended cardiothorasic surgeons in the country and married to Michael' Chrissie pulled a face 'I don't know much'

'Kids?' he enquired idly as they pulled away from the car park and he cast a last glance up at the hospital where Connie had disappeared

'God I hope not' Chrissie shuddered slightly 'the idea of them procreating is terrifying. The child would be an evil genius' she added with utter certainty 'either that or screwed up beyond help'

'Why were you so keen to stop her choking on her own vomit?' he couldn't help enquire quietly as his girlfriend clearly despised the woman

'Because I'd hate to be haunted by her' Chrissie replied with a shrug 'now can we talk about something else'

'Sure' he shrugged, a grimace of realisation crossing his face as they pulled on to the ring road. He had only ever met one Connie in his entire life and if she was the same woman then he was in real trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

'Morning' Michael's deep voice echoed around her skull and she felt her stomach lurch as the roots of a truly monstrous hangover took hold 'just about' he added with a roll of his eyes as she attempted to sit up 'where did you get to last night?'

'Here' she mumbled, pressing her hand over her eyes to shield them from the light that was biting into her brain 'I left a message'

'I know. It was incomprehensible' he replied coldly 'you always think you make more sense than you do when you're entirely drunk'

'I wasn't that bad' she protested weakly 'just a couple of glasses of wine…'

'Couple of vats more like' he eyed her suspiciously 'of gin. It's the only thing that gives you a hangover like this'

'I'm not hungover' she lied but fooled no one 'I've just got a virus'

'You and I both know what is the matter with you' he said sternly 'and it's totally self inflicted'

'Piss off' she snapped, inflicting more physical pain on herself than the words inflicted on Michael 'just leave me alone'

'Is that any way to speak to your boss' a small smile played on his lips as he relished his power over her 'and while we're on the subject, really, coming to work with a hangover is utterly unacceptable' he laughed at his own joke, ignoring the look of venom she shot him

'If you don't shut up, I swear I will divorce you' she hissed, standing up and slowly moving to the small fridge in the corner of her office and taking a large bottle out before taking a long drink

'Now I think that is an idle threat' he gave a small laugh 'don't you sweetheart'

'I don't make idle threats' she spat, pushing him out of her way and storming out onto the ward, heading for the ladies, knowing it was the one place he wouldn't follow her and the one place she could find water to splash on her face in a vain attempt to wake herself up

'God I look a state' she murmured, taking in her pale, clammy complexion and red ringed eyes

'Yes' a voice asserted an agreement and she whipped round, her heart sinking at the sight of Chrissie 'but considering the state you were in last night…' she added with a small smile, pleased that her boss was in no position to answer back

'I've had the self-inflicted routine from Michael, I certainly don't need it from you too' she sighed tiredly, her usual bark stolen from her by the hangover and the sense of doom that had overtaken her since seeing him the night before

'Fair enough' Chrissie agreed 'any particular reason you were drinking your bodyweight?'

'None that you need to know about' Connie moaned gently 'keep the ward ticking over without me this morning and I promise your bonus this year won't be an insult'

'I could certainly do with the cash' Chrissie pondered for a moment, wondering whether the need for a deposit on a flat outweighed the desire to watch her boss struggling to cope with Donna and a hangover

'Just do as I ask' Connie sighed, splashing water on her face and trying to quell the nausea that rose within her

'Fine' Chrissie snapped back, louder than necessary with the intention of aggravating Connie's obvious hangover. For a couple of moments they stood in silence, Connie swallowing furiously, attempting to keep down the small amount of water in her stomach, Chrissie watching her with a mixture of satisfaction and interest 'do I still get my bonus?'

'We'll see Chrissie' Connie gave a small smile at Chrissie's nerve as she passed her on her way out of the toilet

It was midday by the time Connie felt up to venturing out of her office onto the ward. In the distance, she watched Chrissie's inimitable style of management as she delegated the most mundane tasks to Donna, any that involved an ounce of talent going to Tricia and any complex tasks to Mark, and she felt safe to leave the hospital completely and go and get some air in her lungs.

'Chrissie' she called, her usual authoritative tones returning 'I'm going to nip out, I'll be on my page. I can be back in two minutes if you need me'

'Fine' Chrissie didn't glance up from her paperwork as Connie strolled past the nurse's station and off towards the lift

As she stepped into the park, she felt her head clear and the lingering headache finally lift as the cool, fresh air flooded her body. She took the long way round the park, not especially wanting to return to the place where she had thrown up and relishing the thought of an extra half hour of freedom before she had to return to the hospital and do what she was paid for. Slowly, she strolled down the path and away from the hospital, sitting down on a bench left as a tribute to a woman who had died in the hospital and just thinking. Phil had been such an unhappy time in her past that she had spent years trying to forget. He was put away in an unlabelled box in her mind and she chose never to retrieve him. Except last night, he had climbed out of the box himself and started dancing a salsa through her thoughts. She was a complete mess of emotions – furious with him, furious with herself, thrilled to see him, devastated that he was as happy as he was while she was haunted every day and guilty that she knew that if he showed the slightest interest in her, she would gladly leave Michael for him. She felt a stray tear roll down her cheek and batted it away, refusing to waste any more tears on him. Standing up, she steeled herself for another six hours of work, taking deep cleansing breaths to try and rid her body of the last stray traces of alcohol and emotion before going back and facing the world. Making her way back, she barely noticed the man walking towards her until he was standing right in front of her.

'Watch where you're…' she trailed off, feeling her face pale at the sight of him

'Hello Connie' he said, the twinkle that normally lit up his eyes entirely absent 'how have you been?'


	4. Chapter 4

'What are you doing?' she asked, her voice cold and steady even though every fibre in her body was screaming

'I worked out where I recognised you from' he said shortly

'Give the guy a coconut' she snapped 'is there a point to this little visit or are you here to gloat?'

'Gloat?' he frowned slightly, her obvious bitterness confusing him slightly 'Why would I gloat? You seem pretty together to me'

'I'm doing just fine' she snapped, trying to push past him but not putting much effort into it 'will you please let me past?' she hissed angrily

'No' he gave a small smile 'you and I need to talk to Connie'

'What do you mean?' she barked, a look of terror creeping into her eyes

'I really like Chrissie' he shrugged 'Fraserbourgh is a tiny place – she's bound to realise that we have met before'

'Do you honestly think my staff know that I spent most of my teenage years in a tiny fishing village in Scotland?' she snapped 'Just how stupid are you?'

'What about Michael?' he stared at her again 'Surely he knows that your family moved to Scotland… he doesn't know?'

'As far as he is concerned I grew up in a nice middle class part of Essex' she snapped 'my father was an accountant, my mother was a teacher'

'Has he met your father?' Phil couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea – Connie's father was a fisherman with a foul mouth and constant smell of fish that followed him around. No one on earth would believe that he was an accountant. Connie's mother was a different sort of lie. She had indeed been a teacher until she died when Connie was five

'No' Connie replied coldly 'I'm surprised you didn't hear. Dad's boat went down twenty years ago and he was never found…' she trailed off, her voice emotionless 'It wasn't long after you left and it was all the push I needed to get out of Fraserbourgh and live my life'

'I'm sorry. What about your brothers?' he asked quietly, amazed that he hadn't heard about Connie's father. It was the sort of thing that would normally have his mother on the phone insisting he went straight to church to pray

'Still floating around off the coast of Scotland trying to catch enough salmon to make a living' she replied bitterly 'I haven't spoken them since the day I told them where they could shove their plans to turn me into their keeper and left for London'

'Really?' he was stunned that Connie had just upped and left. It didn't seem possible. It wasn't something the Connie he knew would have done; she would have been too frightened that they would track her down and drag her back.

'Honestly' she nodded slowly 'so there is no one here who will associate us which means you can just crawl back under your rock'

'You really have made something of yourself haven't you' he watched her with fascination as she tried once again to push past him without much success

'Yes' she asserted coldly 'please move. I have to get back to work'

'Can we go for a drink?' he tried, desperately

'I don't think so' she replied coldly 'in fact, probably best all round if you stay right away from the hospital'

'What if I don't want to' he tried and watched her freeze, fury imprinted on every part of her body as she turned to him with a stare designed to turn men to stone. She'd spent years practicing it with him in mind and was thrilled at the chance to use it on the victim she had always intended it for

'Tough' she snapped bitterly 'do something for someone else for once Phil; you might surprise yourself. If you must stay around Holby, keep out of my way. Is that absolutely clear'

'Crystal' he sighed heavily as she finally succeeded in passing him and stormed back towards the hospital, brushing past Chrissie who had emerged from the hospital for her break

'Phil' she spotted him instantly and her face broke into a broad grin 'what are you doing here?'

'Surprise' he smiled lamely as she gave him a brief hug and a peck on the cheek 'lunch?'

'I only have half an hour' she sighed apologetically

'We'll get sandwiches and eat them in the park' he smiled and led her gently inside, watching as Connie disappeared into the lift, firing one last cold look in his direction as the lift closed


	5. Chapter 5

Connie stormed through the ward and into her office, slamming the door behind her, listening to the sound echo off all the surfaces in her office. For a moment she stood, hyperventilating quietly, trying to calm down but she could feel herself getting worked up until in the end she found herself standing in the middle of her office, swearing loudly.

'Problem sweetheart?' Michael appeared in the doorway with timing so immaculate she'd swear he had been waiting outside until she finally had to vent her frustration and anger with the world

'Nothing you need to concern yourself with' she snapped, sitting down heavily at her desk and lowering her head to her hands, the vague dull thud of her hangover returning as the antiseptic air of the hospital hit her

'If my wife, let alone my medical director, is swearing to herself, I think I should be concerned' he sat down on the desk and looked her in the eye 'what's going on Connie?'

'Nothing' she snapped again, her head protesting at the noise 'is there a point to this visit or is it just to unsettle me?'

'I need you to look over these proposals for an ITU extension…' he placed them gently in front of her 'Perhaps we could go out for dinner tonight…'

'I don't think so, Michael' she said tiredly 'I'm not sure I'll be able to stay awake much later than six'

'That's what you get for burning the midnight oil and getting drunk' he remarked accusingly 'we'll get a take away and eat it at home then'

'Fine' she muttered, giving him a small smile as he backed slowly from the room leaving her alone to her thoughts. Only when she was sure she was alone did a barely perceptible tear snake slowly down her face. She raised her hand lethargically and batted it away, only for it to be replaced by two more. The more tears she wiped away, the more she cried, heavy sobs wracking her body as she curled up on the soft leather sofa and cried in a way she hadn't cried since he'd left her.

Ric strolled through the double doors of the hospital, amazed at how good it felt to be back. Despite having had the time of his life in Ghana, he realised that there were people in Holby who needed him as a friend and a father as much as his patients in Ghana needed him as a surgeon, so on a whim he called his brother, explaining that he thought his presence was required in England and booked himself on the first flight home. He knew that logically the first thing he should do was call Jess and see how she was and maybe ring Diane and let her know he was back in Holby. He'd felt guilty ever since he'd rejected her advances when she'd travelled halfway across the world to tell him how she felt – it had been the only sensible course of action but he still felt terrible about it. If he was honest about it, he had to admit that she was a large part of his reason for coming back. Jess had Zubin; he was as much of a father to her as he was to their baby, but Diane really needed a friend after everything she had been through, from losing the baby to discovering her job no longer existed thanks to the big ideas of Holby's resident dictator. So when he'd climbed into the cab and found himself asking to be taken to the hospital, almost before he'd even thought, it made no sense but as the familiar antiseptic smell of the hospital hit his lungs, he found himself relaxing and once again feeling at home in his surroundings in a way he never had in Ghana. A few old colleagues passed him, alternating between nodding politely and looking stunned to see him there, as he made his way up to Darwin ward.

As he stepped out on the ward he stifled a groan – Keller ward had been entirely swallowed up and replaced with Super Darwin, Connie's terrifying new empire. He looked around him in astonishment at the nurses he no longer recognised, the new décor and the heart monitors that seemed crammed into every available corner of the ward, and wondered how long he had been away. In the distance he heard the voice of one of the people he had hoped to avoid on his return to Holby. A grandma story – more than his sanity could stand.

'Ric!' another voice called out and he realised he'd been spotted, by Zubin of all people, leaving him with only one possible way of avoiding a messy confrontation or a grandma quote. Connie's office.

'I uh' he gestured towards the door of the office, hearing a distant exclamation of "Eric" as he realised that Lola too had registered his presence. Hastily he knocked on the door and pushed the handle, praying that it wasn't locked, sighing with relief as the door opened and he stepped inside, slamming it behind him.

'What the hell are you doing here?' he heard a slightly muffled voice gasp and he turned round to find Connie sitting on her sofa, tears rolling down her face, a sad smile on her face as they stared at each other, her stunned that he was in Holby, him stunned that she was in tears.

'What's happened?' he went and sat next to her, choosing to ignore her question for the time being, feeling that his was probably more important. It wasn't every day you found Connie in tears in her office, or perhaps it was if you turned up unannounced.

'Its complicated' she told him, leaning against him as he put his arms around her, at a loss to know what else to do

'Do you want to talk about it?' he glanced down at her as she sobbed into his chest and tried not to think about how strange this was. He was all set to storm into her office and berate her for what she'd done to his ward and instead he found himself concerned for her.

'Not really' she told him, finally sitting up now that she was slightly calmer 'it just all got a bit much…'

'Looked a bit more than just a tough day at the hospital' he remarked quietly as she stood up, turning from him and pouring herself a large glass of water from the bottle that stood on the side 'is it Michael?'

'Partly' she admitted slowly 'not entirely though. As I said, its complicated and I don't want to talk about it'

'Fine' he felt himself tense as her barriers flew back up leaving him no hope of getting through to her 'perhaps you'd like to discuss the mess you've made of my ward in the whole two months I've been away'

'Don't like the colour scheme?' she asked tiredly, preparing herself for the inevitable row

'Don't like the lack of general surgery patients and Diane' he retorted immediately, feeling slightly guilty for kicking her when she was so obviously down

'The board are going to review in a months time. Prepare a report for then if you have a problem' she told him firmly 'was there anything else?'

'No, nothing' he stood up slowly, glancing through the Venetian blinds onto the ward, seeing that Zubin and Lola had apparently got bored and disappeared 'I'll leave you to…' he trailed off 'see you soon Connie'

'Yeah' she agreed quietly as he walked from the room back onto the ward, still reeling from the surreal situation he had just been a part of

'Was she crying?' Chrissie glanced up as he stepped from the office, unphased by his presence in the hospital

'No' Ric said shortly as he went outside to call his daughter

Connie sat in silence for a few moments after Ric left her office, attempting to compose herself although her efforts were in vain. Just when she thought her day couldn't get any stranger or any worse, Ric came charging back onto the scene, spoiling for a fight and caught her on one the very rare occasions where she stopped coping and broke down. Credit where credit is due, he had handled the situation with a level of tact that no other member of her staff, her husband included, could ever hope to achieve. For a moment, she had forgotten the mutual dislike between them, the guilt she felt at how she'd treated him when she'd first arrived and the constant tension that filled the air when they were together. She was just pleased to see him and this confused her further. Since he'd left, she honestly hadn't given him a second thought – one fewer nemesis to deal with was her view; he'd more than proved his position when he'd jumped to the defence of Zubin in the board meeting, but yet today all she wanted to do was lie in his arms and cry. She never felt that way about anyone, even Michael.

Eventually her reverie was broken by a buzzing sound and it took her a few moments to identify the noise as her mobile and a further few seconds to locate the phone and remember how to answer it so by the time she said 'hello' she was seriously hassled and all thoughts of Ric Griffin had flown from her mind.

'We need to talk' an all to familiar voice began and she immediately felt nausea rising within her again, an effect that his voice invariably had on her. Her mind was screaming, her head was spinning and suddenly she was eighteen again.

'How the hell did you get this number?' she snapped, hoping to defer the point of the phone call until she could make her excuses and destroy the phone.

'It was on Chrissie's phone…' he did at least have the decency to sound guilty at his deceitfulness but his guilt did nothing to pacify her. If he was going to have a sudden attack of conscience, he had done far worse things than go through his girlfriends phone and steal the number of her boss.

'How the hell did Chrissie get this number?' was Connie's next question. She knew she was being unreasonable but that didn't bother her. It wasn't a very reasonable situation to find yourself in.

'That's not really the point, now, is it Connie?' his voice took on a patronising tone and she fought the urge to go and find Zubin, her preferred punch bag at all times, and rearrange his features into something resembling a Picasso.

'No, the point is I've asked you to leave me alone, you are ignoring me' she snapped furiously 'now get off the phone and out of my life. I'm not going to ask you again'

'What are you going to do Connie?' he asked quietly but she instantly recognised the small element of laughter behind his quiet tones, just as there was all those years ago whenever she did something, invariably unfunny and often downright humiliating, that he found amusing 'I don't work for you so you can't fire me, we're not married so you can't divorce me and we both know you aren't going to go telling Chrissie your life story. I think you're out of options, don't you'

'I…' she trailed off for a moment, stunned that she was being spoken to in this manner, although she didn't know why she expected any respect from him. Finally, she steeled herself 'I'll think of something and believe me you won't like it. Now just leave me alone'

'Meet me once and I'll disappear' he said slowly and she paused, wondering whether half an hour of her time was a price worth paying for removing him from her life forever 'I promise, you won't see me again, I'll even leave Chrissie and Holby behind, you have my word. Half an hour, that's all I ask'

'Fine' she snapped, noticing with surprise that in her tension she had picked at her cuticle until it was raw and bleeding 'when and where?'

'Thursday' he stated 'The Bar?'

'Don't be ridiculous' she barked impatiently 'if we're going to do that we may as well meet on the ward; we'd be seen. We'll meet in Century Park by the bandstand, at midday. Don't be late'

'Fine' he said shortly and hung up leaving her mouthing stunned at the phone.


	6. Chapter 6

Eventually she managed with her trembling hands to collect her belongings together and locate her coat, pulling it on even though it was the height of summer and it was a thick woollen number she kept in her office in case the ever changeable weather should take her by surprise. She knew she didn't need the coat but she wanted to hide from the world behind as many layers as possible. Stepping from her office, she called an apology to Chrissie and beat a hasty retreat before the nurse had a chance to complete the dressing she was applying and demand an explanation for her bosses less than undivided attention throughout the day.

She descended in the lift, ignoring the surprised greeting from Harry Harper as she barrelled through reception and out into the car park, her mind on two things – escaping the hospital and finding a drink, all the hungover resolutions she had made that morning flying out of the window in the face of yet another huge hurdle in the week from hell. She wasn't about to risk The Bar again – meeting any more of her staff when she was more than a little merry would just be too humiliating and there was an outside chance that he would be there with Chrissie. She doubted he would be so stupid but she certainly didn't intend to risk finding out. She needed a bar where she would see no one and that ruled out virtually anywhere she had been before – Michael was a creature of habit and only ever drank at one of two places, both of them immediately eliminated unless she wanted him to find her, which she most definitely didn't. Since arriving in Holby, she only ever drank with Michael or on her own in her office, so her knowledge of the local bars was sorely limited. She needed somewhere off her beaten track where Michael wouldn't think to look for her so with a heavy sigh, she turned the key in the ignition and headed for the side of town so seedy under normal circumstances she would take a significant detour to avoid it. It was perfect; she would see no one she knew and it simply wouldn't occur to Michael to look there.

Pushing open the door to the first pub she came to, she almost gagged at the stale smell of cigarette smoke and warm beer. Even at three in the afternoon it was packed to capacity with overweight, balding men who had most likely been swilling beer since the pub opened at eleven. Immediately she was back in Fraserbourgh, the precocious eleven year old who had ventured out of the house, despite her fathers warnings about the consequences of such action, in an attempt to bring her father and brothers back to the house before they got too drunk to walk. Ever since that night almost thirty years before, she had never felt comfortable in pubs. Modern bars she was fine with, pubs made her skin crawl. It was only sheer desperation for a stiff drink that had driven her to even consider entering this particularly low class of drinking establishment at three o clock on a Tuesday afternoon.

'Today's looking up lads' the barman spotted his unusually exotic customer hovering uncertainly by the door and fired her a dazzling smile that was designed to seduce her but simply made her feel even more sick.

'Double vodka, straight' she ordered, sitting down on the bar stool that allowed her to maintain maximum distance between herself and the other clientele, at least half of whom she was convinced were contagious.

'I'll buy this one' said a silky voice behind her and she stifled a groan. He didn't sound like a beer swilling waste of space but what other sort of person drank in a place like this?

'It's fine' she turned to him and felt a small smile creep up her face 'you can't afford it' she added as the ghost of a smile became a proper grin at the sight of Ric gazing at her with a mixture of concern and amazement that she would come within even five miles of this pub.

'I think I can afford three pounds for a drink Connie' he said gently 'think of it as three pounds I can't use to place a bet'

'Or three pounds you can't use to pay a debt' she corrected, passing the bartender a ten pound note of her own as she heard Ric's rich, deep laugh echo around the pub.

'I don't think three pounds is going to make a lot of difference to my creditors' he chuckled 'but I doubt you've got a debt to your name'

'Not of the financial variety' she admitted with a small nod 'Michael is good for that at least. But I owe more favours than I care to count'

'Is that what's making you so unhappy?' Ric asked softly as he placed the drink down in front of her and gazed into her eyes 'Because there is something…' he trailed off 'Look, I'm not going to insult you by telling you I've always liked you or understood why you act the way you do, but I'm concerned. You aren't yourself…'

'In what way?' she asked, although she suspected that this was simply a conclusion he had arrived at following his discovery of her in tears in her office. She had to admit, it was the obvious conclusion to draw.

'I've been back for over eight hours and you are the only person who I haven't rowed with' he said with a shrug 'that isn't the Connie Beauchamp I left behind'

'Jess didn't welcome you with open arms?' Connie immediately grasped onto the lifeline of discussing someone else's problems over her own

'She was fine until I made a somewhat misguided comment about Zubin' he blushed slightly 'I still can't get used to the idea of them…'

'I don't blame you' Connie assured him slowly 'what about Diane?'

'That's another story for another day' he said slowly, not wanting to betray Diane by telling Connie what had happened; he wouldn't put it past her to use it as a very useful bargaining tool once she was back to her old manipulative self.

'Zubin?'

'The usual' Ric shrugged but there was anger in his eyes 'I can't be anywhere near him without wanting to smack him'

'I know the feeling well' Connie nodded, feeling slightly better as the alcohol entered her blood stream and numbed everything she was feeling

'The icing on the cake was one more grandma story than my sanity is fit for. I may have been a little harsh – she means well but…'

'Sometimes you just need to be somewhere else' Connie supplied 'even if it is… here'

'Right now I want to be somewhere else' Ric remarked as he glanced up at saw everyone else in the pub watching them with utter fascination 'I have a bottle of something very cheap and very alcoholic at my flat, want to take this back there?'

'Yes' Connie was on her feet, gathering up her coat before the question had escaped is mouth, she was so desperate to get out of the pub.

'You forgot your drink' Ric gestured towards the half drunk vodka on the table

'It was warm' Connie replied, already retreating towards the door

'Fine' Ric shrugged and downed the drink himself. His finances were slowly becoming less dismal but not so good that he could afford to let such an expensive beverage go to waste


	7. Chapter 7

'Welcome to my exceedingly humble home' Ric commented as he let them in, deciding to pre-empt Connie's inevitable amazement that anyone could earn what she knew he did and still live in a bed sit in the nasty side of town. It would save them both a great deal of awkwardness that they could entirely do without.

'It's fine' Connie told him, feeling surprisingly at home in the small, slightly dingy flat 'at least its clean'

'Yes, I allowed myself the extravagance of a cleaner once before I came back to make the place habitable' he nodded 'I haven't had a chance to mess it up yet'

'Fair enough' Connie nodded, not moving from her position of standing awkwardly in the hall, clutching her handbag, unsure what the etiquette for this particular situation was. At some point on the short drive between the pub and Ric's flat, it had occurred to her that Ric Griffin might be the man to provide her with the comfort she so badly needed. She knew with utter certainty that Michael wouldn't want to know – his reaction to advances made by his wife had long been "Sex? Wouldn't you rather have another zero on your budget and I'll go and see my secretary?" – and from what she recalled, Ric was much better in bed than Michael could ever hope to be anyway. As soon as the idea entered her mind, she became tense, nervous about where it would lead, wanting him and not wanting him at the same time, and now, standing in the living room of his frankly unimpressive flat, her discomfort had reached whole new heights. She was caught between jumping him then and there and running like hell in the opposite direction.

'Drink?' Ric asked eventually, stepping beyond her and into the small kitchen in one corner of the room

'Please' she nodded, deciding that the third option of having the drink as intended was certainly the safest

'Sit down' Ric gestured at the lumpy sofa and grimaced 'its more comfortable than it looks'

'Mmm' she murmured, not wanting to comment one way or the other as a spring dug viciously into her back

'Well drink this – it tastes like paint stripper but I guarantee you'll forget whatever it is that's worrying you' Ric raised his glass and downed the drink, letting out a raspy breath as the liquid flowed through his system.

'Jesus' Connie gasped as she drink hit her system and she felt instantly light headed 'what on earth is that?'

'Meths' Ric laughed quietly 'but you feel better, don't you?'

'A little' she admitted cautiously as he poured her another

'So, do you want to talk about it?' he enquired so casually he may as well have been asking if she took milk in her tea

'Talk about what?' she avoided the question expertly, a skill gleaned from years of dodging thorny issues within her marriage

'Whatever it is that's getting to you…' he paused for a moment 'is it Michael?'

'Not entirely. I admit he has been less than cooperative lately' she paused to collect her thoughts 'he wasn't the cause of what happened earlier…'

'So what was the cause?' Ric asked, not considering that she might not appreciate the question – he knew he was prying but also knew she would probably feel better for sharing whatever it was that was eating her

'It's complicated' she replied 'I don't want to talk about it'

'I think you need to talk to someone' Ric told her firmly 'I don't care one way or the other if its me or someone else but you must talk to someone – I don't know what's going on but I know if something's getting to you and you keep it bottled up, it will send you mad. I think it was not talking about my problems during my marriage to my first wife that started me gambling'

'I feel no desire whatsoever to bet a months mortgage on a horse in the three thirty' she retorted cagily

'No, but you'll happily drink yourself into a stupor before your first hangover has lifted' he remarked 'mid-afternoon drinking is not the sign of a person who is content'

'Nor is bankrupting yourself in the vain pursuit of a high that doesn't last longer than a single race' she retorted angrily but he simply smiled

'I didn't say it was' he shrugged 'come on Connie, talk to me and I promise you faithfully that it will go no further than these four walls'

'Do you have any wine?' she asked slowly 'because it's a really long story. I don't think I'll get through it without significant quantities of alcohol, and before you say it, I'm not an alcoholic, I'm just stressed, but I think if we drink this for much longer, we'll both have passed out before I've told you much' she realised she was waffling and firmly shut her mouth, watching as Ric wordlessly got up and produced a bottle of surprisingly good quality red wine from a bag by the door and placed it in front of her with two glasses

'Duty free' he said by way of explanation 'help yourself'

'Thanks' she nodded and poured a large glass 'I don't really know where to start'

'How about the beginning' Ric suggested gently and she nodded in agreement

'I don't really know where the beginning is any more' she said quietly, nibbling her lip thoughtfully for a moment 'I suppose this little episode started last night…' she took a deep breath and prepared to tell Ric the story of her life

Two hours later, Ric held Connie in his arms as she finally slipped into a restless sleep, exhausted from consuming too much alcohol and crying too many tears. In his heart, Ric had known that there was more to Connie Beauchamp than merely the brittle exterior that she displayed, but he had to admit he could never have imagined what she'd told him between mouthfuls of wine and, when she reached the critical but most painful part, sobs that wracked her whole body.

She told him about her childhood. Her mother had died when she was very small, although of what, the details were sketchy – Connie was far too young to remember and her family weren't great talkers. He had to admit that when Connie had told him about her mother he hadn't been surprised that as a child, she lacked female influence. To watch her strut through the wards and deal with people, there was something very masculine about her manner. He'd always thought it was simply her attitude but now he saw – Connie had been one of the boys for her entire life. She was never allowed to be just a little girl. Furthermore, at a young age, she had become expert at manipulating her father and brothers, not to obtain things but to avoid taking the brunt of their anger. It was a talent that had grown rather than diminished in her adult life.

As a teenager, Connie was bullied by virtually the whole school. She was as far as everyone else was concerned, the gawky looking girl with no mother and more brains than she knew what to do with. She came top of every class and was effortlessly the best hockey player the school had ever seen but instead of admiring her talent, the other children felt threatened by her and made her suffer for their inadequacies. As soon as she'd told him, Ric understood why she behaved as she did, especially with Zubin. As far as she was concerned, Zubin felt threatened by her because she was better at her job than he was at his, and that made him just like the playground bullies in her eyes. Except this time, she was the one holding all the cards.

It was only when she was sixteen that life started to look up for Connie. She started sixth form with a crop of A's under her belt, finally got rid of her braces and convinced her father, a man who thought his daughter unworthy of his attention, to allow her the luxury of replacing the glasses that her mother had bought before she died, that had been held together by a plaster since she was ten. Walking into the classroom on her first day in sixth form, she seemed to have grown three inches over the summer and for the first time, her classmates saw her as a person not a punch bag. Two great things happened to Connie that day – her classmates started to acknowledge her with something resembling friendliness and she met Phil Harding.

It was at this point in the story that she'd grown tearful and told him she didn't think she could go on but gently he had coaxed the events of the following two years from her, just as stunned by what she told him as she had predicted he would be.

For the first time in her life, when Phil had walked into the classroom that day, Connie had been noticed. He was different to all the other boys in the town purely by virtue of the fact that he harboured ambitions greater than simply joining his father on the boats and didn't carry his brains around in his trousers. As Connie looked at him, with jeans and a black leather jacket, much smarter versions of her brothers' shared "pulling" outfit, she thought she'd found her kindred spirit. She wanted to get out, he wanted to get out, and together, they might just succeed.

For nine months, it was perfect. For the first, and possibly last time in her life, Connie was truly happy. They did absolutely everything together, from the moment she arrived at his house in the morning for breakfast, choosing to leave the house with her brothers at the crack of dawn over waiting in with her father, to the moment she crept in, far later than her father or brothers would have approved of, and went to bed, longing for the moment she could wake up and see him again.

It was at Easter that two things happened to threaten their happiness. Number one; Phil got offered the chance to pursue his dream of moving to London and completing an apprenticeship in plastering. Number two; Rosie Lambert moved to town. Connie and Rosie had hated each other on sight. Rosie was the one thing that Connie was threatened by. She was beautiful and she knew it. The moment she strolled into the pub with her long dyed blonde hair, endless legs and clothes that left nothing to the imagination, she shot a fatal bullet into the heart of their relationship. Phil hadn't been able to take his eyes off her that evening and for the next couple of months, it was abundantly clear that given the option, Phil would happily trade in his plain but fiercely intelligent girlfriend for the eye-catching barmaid. Connie thought she was losing him when he elected to go to the pub alone rather than stay in with her while she studied in a desperate attempt to obtain the A grades she needed. Connie knew she was losing him when he suggested that she dye her hair blonde and bought a pink mini-skirt and tight top for her birthday, despite her hatred for such garments and the heavy hints she had dropped for the knock off Doc Martin boots they had seen on the market in town. Connie knew she had lost him when she saw him and Rosie Lambert getting to know each other better than they should have behind the pub one night when she abandoned her studies in favour of surprising him.

At that point in the story, she had began to mumble, a mixture of shame and alcohol making her barely comprehensible, but Ric had encouraged her to persevere, straining to hear every word she uttered. He had removed the wine from her, both of them knowing that she had drunk quite enough, and he had taken her in his arms, holding her and whispering soothing reassurances to her as she continued.

She told him how where a thirty-seven year old Connie would have absorbed the sight of her boyfriend kissing the local bike and used the information to make his life immeasurably miserable, seventeen year old Connie had neither the sophistication nor the desire to be so cunning. Instead, she confronted him outright, telling him with a quiet rage that she wanted nothing more to do with him. Then she left and for the next two months, she waited, feeling certain that he would realise his terrible mistake and beg her to take him back. He didn't. Instead, word returned via the school grapevine that Phil had accepted his place on the apprenticeship and would be taking Rosie to London with him. At that point, it was Connie's turn to beg. She promised him that she'd change, that she would abandon her studies to come to London and even dyed her hair blonde, but no joy. He and Rosie had gone to London three weeks later leaving Connie stranded in Scotland and heartbroken.

She had thrown herself into her studies, despite her father's assertion that she was going to University over his dead body. She had applied to medical school regardless, deciding she would tackle her father if and when the need arose. In the end, a heavy storm had taken the discussion from both their hands. Her brothers had been out on the boat alone when a fierce storm whipped up and her father, panicked at the mere thought of losing his sons and being left with only his nonentity of a daughter, took the second boat and went to find them. Her brothers returned cold, wet and unscathed the next morning. Her father wasn't so lucky. On the same day as they gave up the search for her father, Connie received her offer for medical school in London and accepted it without question. The grades were the easy part of getting to University, broaching the issue with her father was the part she was dreading and now she didn't have to. That September, she told her brothers she was going and went and she hadn't been back since.

After a couple of hours on the sofa with Connie dozing lightly in his arms, Ric decided his back could take no more. Slowly he slid out from beneath her, desperate not to disturb the sleep she so badly needed. Leaving her asleep on the sofa, he went to the bathroom and quickly performed his bedtime routine, having a quick blast under the shower to remove the grime of a morning spent on a plane, an afternoon spent having various disagreements and an evening comforting a distraught woman, brushing his teeth and pulling on a t-shirt and boxers. Only then did he return to the living room, listening to her alcohol fuelled sleep with a small smile on his face. It occurred to him briefly as he watched her sleep that if someone had told him twenty four hours ago that he would be feeling affection towards Connie Beauchamp, he would have called them insane, but now he thought he probably understood her better than anyone else. She freely admitted that Michael knew nothing of her childhood and without that information, it was all to easy to dislike Connie Beauchamp and write her off as one of life's unpleasant people. He had been guilty of that himself but now he saw that he was wrong – she wasn't bad, she had been dealt a rough hand in her early life and it had left its mark on her adult self.

Gently he slid his arms around her sleeping form, one under her neck, one under her knees and she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to carry her gently into the bedroom and lie her on the bed where she fell immediately back into a deep sleep. For a few moments, he stood, watching the little movements she made, obviously in the midst of a dream. She was, he had to admit, beautifully peaceful when she slept. Looking at her now, you would think that butter wouldn't melt. He was certainly having difficulty reconciling her sleeping form with Holby's great leader, a woman who would use you soon as look at you and was known for expertly manipulating even the strongest men until they crumbled.

Eventually he climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms around her, and she responded to his touch, moulding her body to his and gripping his hands tightly in her own, an unconscious bid to keep him close to her. Gently, he leaned his head on her shoulder, breathing her unique smell of cigarettes, exotic perfume and a hint of antiseptic that lingered from the hours she spent in theatre. This was the Connie he had met on his first day, the woman who disappeared without trace the moment they finished sleeping together. When he met this Connie for a brief time in his office the previous June, he thought that he had finally met his match. When she changed beyond recognition, he knew that he hadn't; as Zubin said, she was out of his league. But tonight as she lay beside him, having revealed to him things she had never told even her husband, it suddenly seemed like a much more level playing field.

When she stirred the next morning, Ric was already awake on his third coffee of the day, the jetlag beginning to take its toll on him. At first, he didn't realise she was waking, assuming the quiet mumbles that Michael would have recognised as her gently coming round were simply her making noises in her sleep. It was only when she murmured morning in a voice thick with sleep and hangover did he realise that she was back in the land of the living.

'Morning' he stroked her hair affectionately as she dragged herself up the bed to face him 'sleep well?'

'Mmm' she nodded and then winced at him, as if she'd only just noticed that he wasn't Michael 'what am I doing here?'

'We bumped into each other' he shrugged 'the pub was a dump'

'Right' she nodded, wincing as her head remembered that it existed and started to pound slowly. Lately she had forgotten what it was to wake up without a hangover.

'Tea?' he gestured towards the kettle and busied himself with mugs and tea bags, anticipating her answer

'Worth a try' she agreed, gingerly attempting to stand up 'don't suppose you have any alka seltzer in the house…'

'Bathroom cupboard, second shelf' he grinned, handing her a glass of water as she padded past in search of painkillers and something to settle her stomach. He listened to two dull 'plops' as the tablets fell into the water followed by a fizzing noise and then Connie shudder as the drink hit her system and she struggled to keep it down.

'Better?' he enquired as she padded out again, her face already a healthier colour

'A little' she nodded and slumped down on one of the hard metal chairs in the kitchen, tentatively sipping her tea and finding to her relief that she was able to keep it down 'what did I tell you last night?'

'You don't remember?' he asked gently as she winced slightly

'I was rather hoping I was wrong' she told him slowly 'I told you everything, didn't I?'

'I think so' Ric nodded 'but I promise you, I won't tell a soul and I'll never mention it again'

'Thank you' she gave a small smile 'it does feel a little better to get it off my chest'

'That's good' he smiled, not about to insult her by saying anything has childish as "I told you so"

'I should get going' she peered at her watch 'Michael will be going spare as it is. The later it gets, the more pissed off he becomes'

'Here' Ric pulled the keys to her car from his pocket and handed them to her 'I didn't want you doing a moonlight flit on me, especially as you were in no condition to drive'

'Thanks Ric' she him another smile, brighter this time 'if you want… I mean I doubt you can realistically afford to be not working for any length of time and I'm a general surgeon down at the hospital. If you're interested, come in and see me'

'I'll bear that in mind' he nodded, knowing that he would be there before the day was out. If she required a general surgeon, it suggested she intended on having a general surgery ward.

'Do' she nodded as she padded slowly off and returned, two minutes later, fully clothed 'thanks for last night'

'Any time' he said sincerely 'I'm always at the other end of the phone'

'Thanks' she nodded and then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, gently prising him away as he attempted to kiss her mouth

'Don't spoil things Ric' she whispered 'I need you too much as a friend to risk it for a kiss'

'Fair enough' Ric nodded as she squeezed his hand and let herself out, leaving him wondering when his flat started feeling so empty without her.


	8. Chapter 8

For Connie, the next few days crawled by at snails pace. The anticipation and fear of Thursday's meeting had made her virtually incapable of functioning. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat although she had no problem drinking, and the only constructive thing she had done at work was hire a general surgeon who she had yet to find a ward for. Ric kept a discrete but constant presence through phone calls and the occasional impromptu visit when he was in the area. He had convinced her with ease to sign off theatre until the meeting was out of the way, reasoning that she would be far too tense and distracted to be safe with a scalpel. As much as it pained her to admit it, he had a point. Conversely, Michael appeared to be caring less and less about her. When she arrived home after spending the night at Ric's, he had been livid, calling her all kinds of names and flinging all kinds of accusations. She attempted to convince him that nothing had happened – that she hadn't slept with anyone, or at least not in the sense he was suggesting – but it was pointless. At some point during that night, he had drawn his own conclusions and wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. She was seriously beginning to wonder whether her marriage was worth the hassle.

Ric had made her see a different side to herself. When she was with him in a one-on-one situation, she wasn't cold, bitter or manipulative, but instead open, honest and warm. Even in her inebriated state, she knew that she much preferred herself with Ric to with Michael. More than that, when she awoke in Ric's sleeping arms, in the middle of the night, she felt safe and loved in a way she never had with Michael. Being held wasn't something that Michael believed in but paying his wife any attention was largely beyond him. When Ric kissed her, for a moment her heart had lifted and she had kissed him back before the rational part of her mind kicked in, screaming that an awkward ex and a bully of a husband was quite enough to handle, without adding a lover who had quite enough hassle of his own to the already potent mix. She knew that the only sensible course of action was to push him away but it had almost killed her to do so. The small, reckless part of her was yearning to suggest getting on the next flight to Ghana and forgetting all about Holby but she knew it was unreasonable. She couldn't have Ric – didn't deserve him as a friend, let alone anything more, after the way she had used him and disposed of him. Michael was her husband and she owed it to him to attempt to make it work. But it wasn't Michael or Ric who occupied most of her mind on Thursday morning as the clock began its slow journey to midday. Then, there was only room for Phil.

As the morning plodded on, she read numerous proposals but understood none of them. She completed a stack of form filling, knowing that she would have to redo a large portion of them thanks to her complete lack of attention to the task in hand. She even pulled Donna in for an impromptu appraisal as a displacement activity, taking perverse delight in the young girls protests that it was unfair. Finally, eleven fifteen dawned and right on cue, the phone rang.

'Hi' she answered cheerfully, knowing who it was before she had even picked up the phone. She had known that he would call before she left the office to wish her luck and have one last ditch attempt at persuading her to allow him to come with for moral support. Normally she would happily take him up on the offer but she hadn't been entirely honest with Ric. Everything she told him up to the point that Phil left was the absolute truth as was the sorry tale of her father's death. There was just one tiny little omission that would undoubtedly come to light during the course of her meeting with Phil. The tiny omission that could easily alter Ric's opinion of her. The tiny omission that would elicit either pity or disgust when shared, depending on whom you were talking to. The tiny omission that she knew now she couldn't have Ric learning about.

'You ready?' he asked quietly and she nodded although he couldn't see

'As I'll ever be' was her eventual reply 'I'll see you later'

'I'll be in all afternoon' he confirmed 'if you want me, call'

'I will' she whispered, wishing that she was heading to the comforting if slightly shabby environment of Ric's flat rather than the park and a meeting with the ghost of Christmas past.

Chrissie barely glanced up as she saw her boss emerge from her office, her head remaining in the clouds as it had been for several days now. If she hadn't despised her, she might have been concerned but she had a deep suspicion that whatever was eating Connie Beauchamp would be a mess of her own making.

'Chrissie, keep the place ticking over for me' Connie barked as she passed the nurses station without bestowing so much as a sideways glance upon the ward sister 'I'll probably be back later'

'I'm actually going off shift now' Chrissie mumbled as Connie turned to her, a look of anger crossing her face

'What shift finishes at half eleven in the morning?' Connie enquired icily, conveniently overlooking the fact that she too was leaving work in the middle of the morning but unlike Chrissie, she hadn't arrived at 7am for an early shift.

'Mine' Chrissie replied shortly 'Charge Nurse Williams is filling in for me so it's all covered'

'Daddy's covering for his little girl? How sweet' Connie remarked sarcastically

'Hardly' Chrissie snapped 'I'm working a shift for him later in the week, if you must know'

'Good' Connie nodded slowly 'I'd hate to think anyone was abusing a position of power'

'No' Chrissie agreed, not sharing her personal opinion that Connie abused not only her own power but also that of her husband as well on an alarmingly regular basis

'Well, have a nice afternoon, Sister Williams' Connie gave a small smile and stalked off the ward leaving Chrissie open mouthed in her wake

'Isn't it time you weren't here' Tricia remarked as she approached the nurse's station 'if you want to…'

'Yeah, I'm gone. Don't worry about covering for me with Cruella, she already knows' Chrissie called over her shoulder as she quickly gathered up her belongings and followed her boss down the stairs

By the time Connie arrived at the park the drizzle that had been falling outside the hospital had become driving sheets of rain pouring onto every surface, making the whole park sodden. Stepping from the car, she pulled the collar high up on her coat, partly to protect herself from the rain, partly to protect herself from the prying eyes of the few other people in the park. Slowly, she made her way to the small booth on the far side of the car park and purchased a cup of coffee, not to drink because it was foul, but to keep her hands warm. Taking the drink, she went to the arranged meeting place of the bench by the bandstand and placed the polystyrene cup beside her. Unsure what to do next, she pulled her cigarettes from her handbag and lit one, pressing the filter between her lips and taking a deep drag. He was late, which was no great surprise. It had always been a contentious issue between them as she always insisted on arriving ten minutes early so by the time she had been waiting for twenty minutes for him to turn up late, half an hour had passed and she was always furious. She wasn't sure what irritated her more – his lack of punctuality or the fact that in twenty years, he hadn't grasped the fact that if you leave more than five minutes to get somewhere, you needn't be late. Even when she was meeting him at his insistence, he still couldn't manage to arrive on time.

Eventually she saw him pull up in his flash sports car and it occurred to her, she had no idea where he had found the money to buy such a car. She didn't know what he did for a living, where he lived or whatever happened to Rosie Lambert. She knew nothing about him and it was a state of affairs she was happy with. It was a state of affairs that he seemed adamant to change.

'Connie' he gave a broad smile as he spotted her but she didn't return it, instead firing him her coldest, most withering look, an expression designed with Phil in mind but more frequently used when Zubin was being particularly obnoxious in theatre.

'Phil' she nodded politely and there was ice in her voice 'can we try and make this quick. I have things to do'

'It's good to see you' he told her, pointedly ignoring her comment 'how have you been?'

'Oh you know' she shrugged 'up and down. It has been twenty years'

'Too long' he remarked sadly

'Not long enough' she told him firmly, sitting back down on the bench and taking a mouthful of her coffee that really was as revolting as it looked and smelled

'I'm sorry about how I left things…' he looked at her sadly but received only an emotionless glare in return 'I missed you'

'I hate you' Connie's voice was icy cold and she continued to stare at him as though he was the lowest form of pond life 'I don't want to be here. Can we please forget the niceties and get to the point'

'I want to know what happened…' he trailed off awkwardly and then took a deep breath 'did you keep it?'

'Of course not' she snapped harshly 'Why would I pollute the earth with your offspring?'

'I thought… when you told me you said you wanted to keep it' he stammered, utterly unprepared for the loathing that was coming off her in waves

'I wanted to keep you' she said in a slightly softer voice 'if I had to keep the baby to keep you, it was something I could live with'

'But you didn't want the baby?' he glanced at her and she shook her head with a small air of sadness

'No' she whispered, the strong, cold woman dissolving in front of his eyes 'I went to a place in town and then… well I never told anyone'

'Your dad didn't notice?' Phil asked, quietly incredulous

'He wouldn't know the difference between period pains and cramps following a termination. Why would he? Women's problems were all the same to him – a group of things he didn't want to know about'

'Did it hurt?' Phil asked although he didn't know why the conversation was going off at this particular tangent. It was hardly the point.

'Yes it did' she said simply 'I got over it quickly though. Then my dad died and I left Fraserbourgh for good. I don't know what else there is to tell you'

'Are you happy Connie?' he looked at her sadly, already knowing the answer from looking in her eyes

'Mostly' she shrugged but they both knew it was a lie 'I have bad days just like everyone else'

'Do you ever wonder what it might be like if…' he trailed off, not wanting to put into words what they might have had if he had acted with more sense and maturity than he had.

'No, never' she snapped, standing up and turning to him, allowing him to see the tears rolling down her cheeks 'you've had your half an hour. Leave me alone'

'It hasn't been half an hour' he protested, pulling her to him, amazed that she allowed him to

'You wasted the first twenty five minutes by being late' she sniffed, wiping her face furiously 'punctuality always was your downfall'

'You were always my downfall, Connie' he whispered 'I came back'

'You did what?' she stared at him, virtually speechless

'I came back for you. Rosie and I didn't last the journey to London; she thought I was her ticket out of there and into modelling. I last saw her on page three of the Sun'

'This changes nothing' she snapped, pushing him away from her but he pulled her back

'I think it changes everything Connie' he kissed her gently and she felt herself begin to melt into his arms as she experienced a surge of emotion she hadn't experienced since she was seventeen

'I'm married' she pushed him off her, gasping to catch her breath 'you're with Chrissie. You need to leave me alone now'

'Don't go Connie' he followed her and tried to hold her back but she brushed him away, storming to her car and climbing in

'I met with you, now you put your money where your mouth is' she hissed as twenty years of resentment flooded her and she was furious with herself for being taken in so easily 'get out of my life and out of Holby'

'No' he shook his head 'I don't believe that's what you want. You love me'

'No I don't, I love…' she trailed off, knowing that saying she loved Michael would probably be dishonest 'I don't love you. Just leave me alone now'

'Connie, don't do this' he muttered helplessly as she slammed her foot on the pedal and sped away from him, quickly disappearing into the distance. Breathing a heavy sigh, he turned and went back to his car, climbing in and driving off, his mind on what he had to do next. Prove to her he hadn't been duping her. That he was worthy of her time and her love. He had to leave Holby, Connie and Chrissie behind. As he contemplated the unpleasant conversation with Chrissie that lay before him, he didn't realise that he was being watched.


	9. Chapter 9

As Connie pulled out on the main road, she knew there was only one place she wanted to go. She couldn't go to the hospital when she was this close to losing it – the idea of any more of her staff seeing her crying terrified her. She saw no point in going back to a big empty house and drinking her way through Michael's scotch. She needed to talk to someone who would listen to her without judging her. She needed to tell someone the whole truth and undoubtedly, it would be easiest to tell the person who already had ninety per cent of the story. She needed to see Ric.

Stepping out of the car she broke into a run, desperate to be in his arms, almost forgetting to lock the car in her hurry. He had the door open before she needed to ring the bell and she threw herself against him, feeling herself trembling as he wrapped his arms around her and gently led her inside.

'Calm down' she heard him whisper and she realised that there were tears streaming down her face 'it can't have been that bad'

'I… he… he tried to kiss me. He told me that he loved me. He told me he went back for me' she stammered, leaning hopelessly against Ric's chest as they sat on the uncomfortable sofa

'He went back for you?' Ric repeated softly, choosing to ignore the more complex question of the present until he had the past straight in his mind

'Rosie was using him' Connie sniffed 'he got to London and realised his mistake apparently. By the time he returned several months later, I had gone'

'Do you believe him?' Ric asked and she realised it had never even occurred to her that he might not be telling the truth about going back for her. That despite everything, he still had her trust.

'I don't know' she replied eventually 'I want to believe him but he's hardly got a great track record for being truthful'

'No…' Ric murmured softly, weaving his hand through her hair in a vain attempt to comfort her 'did he say why he came to Holby?'

'I didn't ask' Connie wiped her face leaving deep grey trails of mascara across her face 'but he can't possibly have known I was here'

'I suppose not' Ric agreed doubtfully 'but you must see that it's a fairly massive coincidence that after all these years you should end up in the same bar, hundreds of miles from where you grew up…'

'What are you saying?' Connie asked with a vague note of panic in her voice 'He came to Holby because he knew I was here? But how could he…'

'You haven't exactly kept a low profile since you arrived. The explosion made the front page of several nationals and Will's death popped up in a few as well' he paused 'it wouldn't be hard for him to spot you and track you down to the hospital'

'You're right' she sighed heavily 'he came back to mess it up for me'

'So don't let him' Ric whispered softly 'nobody can wreck your life without your permission'

'That is, without a doubt, the most pathetically pointless piece of sentiment you've ever come out with' Connie replied scornfully

'No it isn't' Ric protested 'he can try and make things difficult for you but he can't ruin anything unless you let him. Something is only ruined when you give up on it'

'When did you start being so maddeningly sensible?' Connie looked at him and blinked sadly

'I checked in my reckless streak on the flight to Ghana and forgot to pick it up again. Being far away from home, my family and any bookmakers was quite a wake up call' Ric smiled slowly 'What is it that frightens you so much Connie?'

'What do you mean?' she inhaled sharply 'I'm not frightened…'

'You're absolutely terrified' Ric told her 'is it of Michael finding out about the lies you've told?'

'Sort of' she took a deep breath 'I wasn't entirely honest with you…'

'In what way?' Ric's face remained impassive as he waited for her to continue but she didn't, instead burying her head in his chest, sure that when she told him, he would hate her

'When he left… before he left' she let out another sob 'something happened'

'What?' he encouraged her gently as another tide of tears overcame her leaving her trembling hopelessly in his arms 'Did he hurt you?'

'No' Connie almost laughed 'not in the way you're thinking. About two months after we split up, I discovered I was pregnant'

'It was his?' Ric confirmed quietly

'I wasn't always such a tart' she retorted but her voice lacked its usual force. She just sounded tired 'of course it was his. I told him the night before he went to London. He was livid. Said he didn't want to know. Told me to get rid of it. Said he wouldn't have put it past me to get pregnant on purpose to trap him in our miserable little town until the day he died'

'And did you?'

'Do it on purpose?' she stood up furiously, and looked down at him with contempt 'of course not. How can you even ask me that? It was my worst nightmare – I was seventeen and had my sights set a little higher than motherhood in a godforsaken backwater of Scotland'

'Connie' he stood up and pushed her back to the sofa 'I meant did you get rid of the baby. I know you wouldn't do something like that on purpose'

'The day after he left I went into town… back street place. How I came out of it without septicaemia I'll never know but it was all I could afford' she paused for a moment and then shuddered at the memory 'their anaesthetic procedures weren't what they might have been. At least I wasn't pregnant any more. What I went through at that clinic was nothing compared to what my father would have done if he had found out'

'Does Michael know?' Ric asked softly, suspecting the answer was no. With a barely perceptible shake of her head, she confirmed his suspicions.

'I said…' she trailed off and tears started to roll down her cheeks again as she prepared to tell Ric the most terrible thing she'd ever done. The thing she was most ashamed of. The lie she most wished she'd never told 'when we met, I told him I couldn't have kids'

'You got an infection after the abortion?' Ric enquired as she shook her head tearfully

'I lied' she whispered 'I knew I didn't ever want children. Lying seemed a lot easier than telling him I didn't have a maternal bone in my body and that all I cared about was my career. He took it all in his stride but now…'

'What?' Ric asked, his face bearing no expression that might give away his reaction to her latest revelation

'Somehow he's convinced himself that my supposed infertility is something that affects me deeply. He's terrified of upsetting me – the mere mention of the word baby and he changes the subject' she took a deep breath 'that's what he thinks all this has been about'

'Have you considered telling him?' Ric asked slowly

'Oh that will be a fun conversation' she laughed out loud at the suggestion 'Sweetheart, you know I said I could never have your child because my tubes are blocked? I lied; I just don't want to have your babies. I don't think he'd take it well'

'No, you're probably right' Ric agreed 'Do you even know that Michael wants children?'

'No' she shook her head 'as conversations go, that would be a spectacularly pointless one. I don't want children and as far as he's concerned, I can't have them. What on earth would be achieved by discussing it further?'

'Michael might start to understand you a little bit better' Ric suggested 'you never know, he might surprise you'

'He won't' Connie replied dully 'Michael is as transparent as a window. He cares about two things in life; sex and money. I'm not essential for either, I'm just there in an attempt to add an air of respectability to his affairs with everything that's female and has a pulse'

'Well at least if you spoke to him, you'd both be starting on the same page. As it is, you're in different novels. Your marriage would stand more of a chance if you talked occasionally'

'Ric, you are the last person I would come to for advice on how to save my marriage' she laughed quietly 'although I admit, you're experienced'

'I asked for that' he laughed along with her as she leaned her head against him

'My marriage would stand more of a chance if we loved each other' she whispered 'if there was even a little passion left between us'

'You don't love Michael?' Ric repeated in surprise having spent the better part of five hours a few nights previously listening to her talk about how terrified she was that her past was going to destroy her present, in particular, her marriage to Michael.

'Not really' she glanced up at him 'I'm quite fond of him but more in a sort of sisterly way than anything. There's no passion there. There was a time when I burned with desire for him – it was a struggle to be in the same room as him without jumping him, a less than ideal state of affairs when you work together. Now we have perfunctory sex when I can't think of a good excuse not to and he isn't getting any from his secretary'

'Is that why you have the affairs?' Ric glanced down at her and she nodded slowly, shuffling up the sofa, diminishing the already tiny space between them

'I wouldn't call them affairs. Meaningless one-night-stands would be more accurate' she sighed and looked guiltily up at him 'I treated you like dirt didn't I'

'A little' he agreed slowly 'but I think I'm starting to understand why you do the things you do'

'You're one up on me then' she smiled self-deprecatingly 'because the workings of my mind are a mystery to me'

'You're not so complex' he whispered 'you need the basic things that everyone requires and once you know about your childhood, the way you go about getting them suddenly makes a lot of sense'

'Stop psychoanalysing me' she muttered softly 'it makes me a little uncomfortable and you're getting entirely too close to the mark'

'Does the mask ever slip?' Ric asked, more intrigued than anything 'when you're with Michael does your accent never drop? Haven't you ever mentioned your brother or your parents to Michael? Your real parents, I mean, not the fantasy. Hasn't he ever wondered why he's never met your family?'

'I ditched my accent so long ago, I'm not sure I could pick it up again if I tried' she began slowly 'It doesn't occur to me to mention my family in every day conversation. Up until the past week, I've barely given them a thought for twenty years. As for wondering why he's never met my parents, I think he's just glad not to have the in-laws breathing down his neck'

'I don't know how you do it' Ric said with a hint of admiration

'What?' she frowned slightly

'Become someone else because it suits you' he sighed 'a lot of the time I don't like who I am but I'm pretty sure if I tried to become someone else I'd fail miserably'

'It was hard at first' she said slowly 'remembering which lies I'd told. It gets easier though… after a while, I'd almost convinced myself that what I was saying was true'

'Do you never feel the need to release the real Connie?'

'Sometimes' she admitted 'mostly when I'm in bed'

'What do you mean?' he enquired, suddenly overcome by curiosity

'When I sleep with people' she elaborated 'Connie Beauchamp likes it hard and fast with no strings attached, even when it's Michael'

'And the real Connie?'

'The real Connie likes to be held sometimes' she told him sadly 'she likes it when a man takes his time over her and worships every inch of her body'

'Does the real Connie ever get what she wants?' Ric asked, feeling his right hand move towards her left breast, almost of its own accord

'Once' Connie said, her voice barely more than a whisper as it became clear to them both just how much she wanted him 'only once' she added, stifling a gasp as he slowly circled her nipple with his thumb through the flimsy material of her shirt.

'Do you want this?' he asked softly and she nodded, the power of speech stolen from her as he pushed her gently back onto the sofa

'Can we do this somewhere else?' she whispered as he lifted her top and gently bought his lips into contact with the soft skin of her stomach

'Bedroom' he stated, gently helping her to her feet and leading her into the bedroom, pulling her gently to the bed before continuing his ministrations, his tongue gently sweeping her abdomen, making sure he attended to every inch of the exposed skin before he gently reached up and undid her top, breaking a couple of buttons as they refused to yield to him

'That top was bloody expensive' she whispered in a voice husky with anticipation as he returned to exploring her breasts, first with his hands as he battled with her bra clasp for a moment before it surrendered, then with his tongue, gently circling each nipple in turn and smiling as she groaned with pleasure

'I'll by you a new one' he laughed, gently nibbling her right nipple, attending to her left with his thumb and forefinger, and alternating his attention between the two sides occasionally

'You couldn't afford it' she muttered, gasping as he made every inch of her upper body feel loved and appreciated, just as she said she liked it

'I'll sell my body' he laughed, knowing that the banter had to stop, purely because his mouth was occupied elsewhere

'Sold' was the last thing she said, a small laugh in her voice as he begun to kiss her neck, working his way painstakingly back down her body, pausing over every erogenous zone he knew of and discovering a few new ones along the way. Finally, after what felt to Connie like hours, he reached the waistband of her trousers and fumbled with button, his normally nimble fingers rendered useless by anticipation of what would surely be some of the best sex either of them had enjoyed in a long time. 'Let me' she whispered, pushing his hands out of her way and deftly unclasping the trousers, pushing them from her and watching as they fell in a heap at the foot of the bed revealing the smallest, most pointless knickers he had ever seen. Wordlessly, he removed them and flicked them carelessly to the side of the room, relishing the small gasp she released as he slid his hand between her legs, smiling as he realised she wanted him so much that she was virtually dripping. There was no doubt about it; this was how she liked it. Finally, having ascertained that she was ready for him, he bought his mouth between her toned thighs, using his tongue to gently tease her clitoris. He heard her breathing quicken and stifled a small smile that she was, despite her demanding exterior, extremely easily pleased. Bringing his head up, he replaced it with his hand, gently sliding three fingers into her, knowing he had hit the spot when he heard her release a small cry of pleasure. Feeling that she was nearing her climax, he moved his fingers in and out of her with languorous strokes, listening as her small moans grew to a cry of utter abandon as she came, the intensity of the sensation bringing tears to her eyes.

For a long time she lay in his arms, tears falling sporadically down her cheeks, her whole body twitching from aftershocks of her orgasm. Eventually, she started to return to the land of the living, turning to him with a small smile on her face.

'Thank you' she said and in her voice he heard the faint ghost of a long abandoned accent. Looking into her eyes, she seemed utterly changed; softer, calmer and far better for it.

'Any time' he grinned, kissing her shoulder tenderly as she turned to him, gently moving her hand towards his crotch, smiling as he groaned with anticipation 'don't feel you have to'

'I want to' she replied, a devilish smile on her face as she undid his trousers and pushed them aside leaving him in just his boxers 'these I remember' she laughed, twanging the waistband teasingly

'They need to go' Ric told her, pulling them off, wanting to remove the few remaining barriers that lay between them, even if it was as simple as a layer of elasticated material

'Mmm' she gave a murmur of agreement as she gently lowered her mouth onto him, expertly working her way up and down his length, her tongue moving in such a way that he was feeling surges of pleasure the like of which he had never experienced before. Quickly, he felt he was nearing the point of no return and he tapped her lightly on the shoulder, wondering briefly when she didn't respond whether she was going to take him all the way like this but with a final squeeze of her full lips she moved her mouth away and pulled herself up the length of his body until she was sitting astride him, her moans of pleasuring joining his as they moved together towards their climax. He kissed her hard as they came simultaneously and she crumpled into his arms, the tears rolling down both their cheeks.

'What are you thinking?' Ric asked gently as she lay in his arms, gazing into space, lost in her own world

'I'd forgotten how good that felt' she told him, rolling over to face him and wrapping her arms around him, her legs becoming entwined with his as she kissed him softly

'Sex?' he asked when she eventually released his mouth from hers

'Being made to feel loved' she told him softly, leaning her head against him 'being held afterwards. Making love'

'But surely Michael…' Ric trailed off as she winced at the mention of her husbands name from the lips of the man she had just slept with. Despite the blatant flouting of her marriage vows she didn't indulge in her flings as lightly as it would appear.

'Michael thinks that speed is a virtue' she told him with a sigh 'we go through the motions and then he rolls over and goes to sleep'

'That's not what you need?' Ric supplied and she nodded sadly, clinging more tightly to him 'Why don't you try talking to him?'

'It would achieve nothing' she sighed 'talking is only a worthwhile pastime if the other person has the ability to listen'

'Have you ever tried talking to Michael?' he asked and to his immense surprise, she nodded sadly, her hair rubbing gently against his chest with the movement of her head

'At the beginning I was always trying to make him talk' she took a deep breath 'he never listened and even I can't make someone hear what I'm saying when they don't want to'

'He listened when you told him…' Ric trailed off as she interrupted, not wanting to hear her terrible lie on his lips

'Typical; the one time I tell a particularly shameful lie and he listens to every word I'm saying' she shut her eyes tiredly 'hasn't heard a word I've said since'

'I'm sure that's not true' Ric attempted, suspecting that in fact, it was an entirely fair assessment of the situation. Michael seemed like the sort of man to only listen when he was hearing something he wanted to.

'It's true' she sat up, pulling the covers around her, her undressed state suddenly making her feel desperately uncomfortable, despite the fact that there was nothing Ric hadn't seen a least once before 'but I should go back to him. He's already livid with me about not going home on Tuesday; a repeat performance would not go down at all well'

'Okay' Ric nodded 'if that's what you want'

'It's not what I want' she kissed him lightly on the lips 'I could lie here next to you forever but the trouble it would cause' she shuddered 'my husband could make life very difficult for me, and for you, if he so wished'

'Well you know where I am if you want me' he told her, giving her arm a comforting squeeze as she leaned over to give him one last cuddle 'you only have to call'

'I know, I'll be fine' she stated without much confidence 'I'll see myself out'

'Goodbye Connie' he whispered softly as he heard the front door slam and she was gone


End file.
